snow globe
by ncfan
Summary: -Padmé- Her world is like a snow globe. When it is shaken, it changes. AU.


**Summary**: Her world is a snow globe. When it is shaken, it changes. AU**  
>Pairings<strong>: None**  
>Author's Note<strong>: This is an AU in which Padmé survived RoTS but Anakin's force choking her left her with, well, read it and you'll see what I'm talking about.**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Star Wars.

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><p>Her world is all shades of white and gray. Everything she knows is a white bed with white sheets and a floor with white and gray checkered tiles. There's white cloth thrown over the chair, and white dust jackets on the books. There are white curtains over the window and whenever she looks out she sees her only splash of color, green trees and the red bricks of a courtyard.<p>

Her world is like the snow globe that sits on her bedside table, too. It was a gift from… from… someone, she's doesn't know who. Her world is like the snow globe, though she doesn't know it.

When the snow globe is shaken, its landscape changes. It is the same for her world. When it is shaken, it changes.

-0-

A man slips through the door and she can't help but smile, though she doesn't know why. He nods to her, and comes to sit on the chair by the bed where she is absently examining her snow globe, smiling as the glittery snow inside floats gently back to earth after it is shaken.

"Hello, Padmé," he greets her quietly, and she looks up, startled.

He's not a young man; there's a fair amount of gray showing in his auburn hair. His blue-gray eyes are heavy and his smile bears a faint hint of the melancholy. He seems kind enough, and she likes him immediately, even though she's sure she's never met him before.

"What did you call me?" she asks politely. Despite not knowing where it came from she knows she must be polite and friendly under all circumstances, never losing her temper or showing even the slightest hint of unease.

His face grows weary. "I called you Padmé. It is your name; we spoke about this yesterday, Padmé."

Her brow furrows and she frowns. "That's not my name. And we didn't talk yesterday. In fact, I could be wrong but I don't think I've ever met you before."

"Then what is your name?" he asks her, very quietly.

She shrugs disinterestedly, "I don't know," and goes back to examining the snow globe, not caring that she doesn't know her own name, no longer noticing the man's presence in the room.

-0-

"My Lady." She honestly has no idea why this tall, slim woman bows to her when she enters the room, nor why she kneels in front of the bed instead of sitting in the chair or sitting in the bed beside her. Isn't the linoleum floor at all uncomfortable? And why is this woman calling her 'My Lady'?

She decides to ask that, still holding the snow globe in her hands. "Why did you just call me 'My Lady'?" She giggles a little bit, nervously. "I'm no lady, at least not the last time I checked. And why don't you sit down? That can't be comfortable."

This new woman doesn't sit. Instead, she remains on her knees on the floor—_That can't be sanitary_—and looks up at her, dark eyes imploring. "Don't you remember me?" she asks, the barest hint of emotion entering her level voice. "Don't you know who I am?"

She shakes her head. "No. I've never met you before. No one ever visits me," she adds plaintively. The glittering snow in the snow globe catches the light and it is so unbelievably beautiful.

The other woman bites her lip and takes the snow globe from her. "I gave you this," she tells her, desperation biting her voice. "Can't you remember me?"

Alarm shoots through her veins; she immediately snatches the snow globe and holds it close to her chest. "No, you didn't give it to me. Now please leave."

-0-

Today, two newcomers have come, a red-haired man in brown clothes and a dark-haired woman in a blue dress. She nods to them politely despite the fact that they are total strangers to her. She is just about to go back to contemplating the contours of her snow globe when she notices something.

Her face lights up when she realizes that they each hold a baby in their arms; the man holds a fair-haired child and the woman, a dark-haired one.

"Oh, what lovely children!" she exclaims. "Are they yours?"

-0-

Obi-Wan doesn't know what to do. His days after visiting Padmé mostly consist of trying in vain to rub headaches away from his forehead.

He doesn't know what to do and when he can't figure out how to fix something he always feels like this.

Helplessness is a devil, grief is a ravening demon and guilt is an avenging angel.

-0-

Sabé doesn't know what to do either. Her days after trying to talk sense into her mistress are spent resisting the urge to hit something and taking care of Luke and Leia, trying desperately to ease their cries. They don't want her, but the one they want doesn't know them.

Death in miniature, that is what she sees in Padmé Amidala's eyes.

Because what Sabé knows and what Obi-Wan can't accept is that the loss of memory is death in its own way. And what use is it to try and talk sense into someone who is no longer alive in truth?

-0-

When she sees her face in the snow globe it is distorted and bent out of shape. There is another place where she can see her face.

The mirror is like a pool of water hovering in the air, whose surface can not be penetrated. The first few times she saw it she tried to put her fingers in the water and was always confused when she met a solid surface instead. She's learned since then.

The face she sees in the mirror has hair that is dark brown and hangs in lank curls around her face, not quite brushing her shoulders. The eyes, slightly lighter in color than the hair, seem huge in a pale face, set back far. The cheeks are slightly hollow.

There's something wrong about this, but she can't place her finger on what.

She moves back to the snow globe, like she does every time she comes across something that threatens to confuse her.

There's something familiar about that face. She just can't quite figure out what.


End file.
